bekah brunstetter
Bekah Brunstetter I care deeply. About a lot of things. Like really, really deep. Ow
playwright in brooklyn, NY

put it in your mouth

November 17th, 2007 by Bekah Brunstetter

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Gooey breakfast sandwiches, homemade peanut butter sandwiches, garlicky green beans, Baby Back Ribs, warm yellow rice piles, roasted chicken things, dirty south cole slaw, butter biscuits smother in chocolate; very frozen Long island Iced Tea with plastic versions of fishlife floating inside of them. All of these things, into your gob they go.

And then:

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Cheddar and Chive Mashed Potatoes, Country stuffing with Apples, Sasuage and Sage, Blocks and blocks of brie, Orange Cranberry Relish, big melty warm turkey chunks, Pumpkin Mouse, Chocolate Bourbon Pecan Pie.

Put all of these things in your mouth, because life is too short, and because I say so.

I’m ready to eat.

Posted in food, vices | No Comments »

L’elevator

November 15th, 2007 by Bekah Brunstetter

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A memory.

Having riden so many gd elevators as of late, all over the greater manhattan area, I am pleasantly and awkwardly reminded of that one time I got stuck in an one with my ex boyfriend and my current boyfriend for 45 minutes during the intermission of my own play; the play which I wrote ABOUT an affair had with the ex-boyfriend while WITH my previous current boyfriend. (He, though, was not present in the elevator.) Ex and current made small talk, saying things that people say when in elevators, that are stuck. As they spoke, hogging our air with their words, I sunk to the floor, I think, and prayed for no boys, more air, more space.

Posted in boys, love | No Comments »

date rape – for kids!

November 14th, 2007 by Bekah Brunstetter

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I hope you’ve seen this. A children’s toy, ‘Aqua Dots,’ is being recalled, because if ingested, the product causes affects on children similar to those of, well, le date rape. It as if they toy itself is talking up the child, saying hey, look at that, and fizzing up their apple juice. It is like this, but more hospital, and less keg.

Generally, it is not good.

My question is: what the fudge is an aqua dot? And also, why is everything so dangerous and threatening all of the sudden? Why do my co-workers and many co-earth inhabitants so obsessively use anti bacterial hand-things?

To answer at least ONE of the pressing questions, I researched Aqua Dots. And honestly, I’m still confused. They are magic ‘dot’ things (i.e, date rape balls) that children can use to design things into different, eh, designs? And when watered, they morph into other designs?

Children that read my blog with constance, try a tire swing. Save date rape for college.

Posted in factual smarts, i am scared | No Comments »

comin soon

November 14th, 2007 by Bekah Brunstetter

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My fat camp diatribe. Can’t stinking wait.

‘They fry like eggs – like fat kids omlettes.’

Posted in food, the writing of drama plays | No Comments »

thanksgiving

November 12th, 2007 by Bekah Brunstetter

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And then also:

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A note:

I love Thanksgiving. It is good and gratuitous and important and smells like warm. Love, love, love. So many times do I love this holiday. So much, that on this day, and only on this day, I am even known to don a turtleneck while balling dough.

Another note: My Grandma had a stroke. (She’s okay.) This is bad and horrible. My mom has been spending all her time nursing her back to health, so she calls me today to tell that I will be in charge of Thanksgiving this year; all of it.

It is okay to do joyous backflips in heels while trudging through midtown, on occasions such as these: when mom relinquishes the entire holiday to you. Granted, come Thursday, I will probably be up to my ears in cranberried things and pumpkin cheesecake goo, but,  I welcome the challenge. For now, I begin my pondering: I mean, should the stuffing have sausage and sage and chestnuts, or dried cherries and chestnuts? OR BOTH. OR EVERYTHING?! Perhaps I should saute the last year of my life or perhaps weep into the bowl and bake it, perhaps there is nothing – literally nothing – more soothing/ lovely than the means and time and occasion to REALLY cook.
I can’t stinking wait.

Posted in food, holidays, i am scared | No Comments »

subway music

November 11th, 2007 by Bekah Brunstetter

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Why am I not musically inclined? If I had a wish, besides erasure of my student loans/leaf bag of monies, it would be that I could sing like a mf, or play the violin, or the piano, or harmonize, or something. But actually – I don’t give myself enough credit, I guess: I am certainly not tone deaf, and when I was 8ish I practically taught myself the piano. I had a good ear, I really did. But I will never blow minds, this way, not like, well, the subway musicians. Have you heard/do you listen? Wow.

Like the other night, too late, waiting for L: Two boys: one stand up bass, one flute. Flautist? Some really mind-blowing ‘flaut’ing happening. I was floored, and stare I did.

It was so lovely, even the rats were dancing.

Posted in boys, music, sucking | No Comments »

re: missed connections

November 9th, 2007 by Bekah Brunstetter

Oh man. Intrigue; hours. Bekah Brunstetter, sociologist hopeful.

Posted in i am scared, life, love | No Comments »

Oh, God

November 8th, 2007 by Bekah Brunstetter

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Walking by a random Baptist church in Kip’s Bay today, I saw this etched on a plaque:

‘Disturb us, Lord,

when we are too pleased with ourselves,

When our dreams have come true because

we dreamed too little,

when we arrived safely because

we sailed too close to the shore.’

– Sir Francis Drake

And I liked it.

Posted in factual smarts, famous people stuff, vices, whining, worrying | No Comments »

they belonged together

November 7th, 2007 by Bekah Brunstetter

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The old, old woman belonged with the large, large woman who was assigned to her as caregiver, through some sort of agency. They both enjoyed moving slow, and so, they shuffled up hill.

I.e., I have been spending too much time on the Upper West Side, where old, people who have lived there for about 100 years still roam the streets towards marketplaces for cinnamon and glass bottles of milk.

They are assigned some Person who meanders beside them at an hourly wage, listening to their screams and sleep sounds. I hope, at least, that they are friends.

Posted in i am scared, life, love, women, working | No Comments »

the bedbug

November 6th, 2007 by Bekah Brunstetter

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People, I’m actually really digging my new job, partially thanks to
these little buggers – literally.
They tend to bite, reek havock and cause drama, generally, i.e., more work for me, i.e. the making of Time Go Faster – all through the great Manhattan area.

I have never experience these thirsty little dudes in my bedplace, but have heard horrendous tails of new sheet burning, and the Forced Getting Rid of one’s favorite clothes. What do the want, even? What the H are they doing, feasting on us, at our most vulnerable time? Actually, they are just hungry, which I can sympathize with. Actually, they just want to be warm, and are attracted to our sleeping selves. They want to cuddle, I can sympathize. And also, maybe, suck our blood. A mere 5mm in length, just one can cause thousands of dollars of damage, as I’ve learned on the job. It takes pretty much just one confused foreign businessmanperson with bugs in his bags to bring the whole dynasty down.

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Also, right now, I am itchy.

Point being – when dealing with people’s home away from home’s – their level of comfort – the cleanliness of blinds, the workingness of DVR boxes and the presence of corkscrews – so much can, and will, go wrong. Never a dull moment – and this is good.

Posted in factual smarts, whining, working, worrying | No Comments »

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